


If Things Were Different

by paintitb1ack, QuazzieSmiles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A LOT OF CHEESE, A LOT of Angst, BOTH, Forgive us, HE IS, M/M, Nobody knows, also soulmate au, and SMUT, but for now, but he's also kind of an assassin, but yes the fondue kind, it's complicated - Freeform, lame, lame as heck, like how do you italicize with this frick frackin website, not the fondue kind, probably some fluff too, steve isn't really a good guy, there are definitely things in here that were formatted incorrectly, who's on top?, yeah just a lot of pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6945880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintitb1ack/pseuds/paintitb1ack, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuazzieSmiles/pseuds/QuazzieSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of their dreams are their soulmate’s most significant memories from that given day. They stop aging when they meet. When they sleep, they can see what the other is doing. They are the only people who can kill each other outside of natural causes. Because of the danger each of them poses to the other, their organizations have sent them to take each other out(on dates). AKA the second captain america movie but both Bucky AND Steve are brainwashed super soldiers. Huzzah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a role play my friend and I started a couple of days ago. She's writing Bucky and I'm writing Steve. Please forgive any inconsistencies, we just kind of do these things for fun. Some responses are shorter than others so I'll split them into chapters via length. This first chapter is just their character outlines. Also sorry for the probable OOCness.

James Buchanan Barnes (paintitb1ack)  
\- 30 years old  
\- 5’11”  
\- “serving” White Rabbit (Belyy Krolik) since he was 22; he is their top assassin  
\- Colonel Mikhail Kozlov runs White Rabbit; Sergeant Ruslan Aleksandrov is Barnes’ guard

Trigger Words  
\- "Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car. Good morning, Soldier." "Ready to comply."  
\- 203 confirmed kills  
\- kept mainly in isolation; only allowed in the outside world when he’s under Kozlov’s control

\--------------------------------------------

Steve Rogers (quazziesmiles)  
-Also 30  
-6’0”  
-Captain “America” as a member of Black Hawk since age 22  
Trigger Words  
-“Carter, Sullied, Dahlia, Three, Winter, Rook, Empire, Hubris, Shelter, Initiative. At ease, Captain.”  
-Alexander Pierce is the one in charge of Black Hawk, and Natasha Romanov is the behind-the-scenes leader. She is in charge of Steve’s missions and training/triggers. She is also a friend and coordinator to Steve.  
-Remembers nothing before initiation.  
-Constant confliction about killing after he has awoken from his state of being the “Captain”.  
-109 Confirmed Kills.  
-Is actually a good guy.  
-Is allowed certain freedoms and when not the “Captain” he has friends on base.


	2. Chapter 2

It was precisely six o’clock when the knock came at James Barnes’ door.  
He didn’t know this because he had a watch, or because someone had decided to install a clock on the wall above his head at some point in the last eight years (God forbid he knew what time it was), but because, in those last eight years, not one thing about the prison he was kept in had changed.  
Exactly two minutes before every even hour, a lone pair of boots would come clicking down the hall outside his room. They would stop on reaching his door, and for the next minute-thirty seconds to a minute-forty-five, he would be able to hear the remnants of a conversation. Then two heels would snap together as though in a salute, and a different pair of boots would retreat in the opposite direction.  
Halfway through the third and eighth guard changes of each day, the heavy metal door would be thrust open and Sergeant Ruslan Aleksandrov, Barnes’ own private “caretaker”, would hand him a tray of food (possibly dropping most of it on the floor; it depended on his mood), and then leave.  
There were a host of other signals present throughout the day that helped to decide the time, but this knock was not one of them. He got to his feet as the sound came again.  
“Rus?” He called out as he reached a hand behind his back. The smooth handle of the knife skimmed his fingers, and a smile flickered across his face. He’d made escape attempts before, and they’d all failed miserably. The closest he’d gotten to freedom was the single step he’d taken past the perimeter fence just before Ruslan put three bullets in his back.  
Barnes shook his head. This time would be different. This time it would work. It had to work.  
“Rus?” He said again and, as though in reply, the door was pushed open and the sergeant stepped into the room.  
“You’ve got a visitor, Jimmy,” Ruslan said.  
“Do I?” Barnes replied, ignoring the idiotic nickname. “Well, is he going to show himself in, or is he the sort of visitor I have to pay beforehand?”  
A guttural laugh echoed through the room, and Barnes took a jolted step back, fear shooting through his veins as he recognized the sound.  
“You always were a funny one, weren’t you, James?”  
Without thinking, Barnes pulled the knife out from behind him, watching the open doorway until the uniformed man stepped into view.  
“Colonel Mikhail Kozlov,” the officer said needlessly, offering a low bow as he removed his cap. “At your service.”  
Barnes’ clenched his jaw, dark eyes flicking about the room as three more soldiers entered behind the colonel. “I know who you are.”  
“Then don’t be an idiot,” Kozlov said, nodded towards the knife. “Surely you know by now it is impossible to escape this. To escape me.”  
Barnes tightened his grip on the weapon. “I don’t need to escape.”  
“No?”  
“No.” Barnes took a deep breath, then raised the knife to his own throat. “Because you’re going to let me go.”  
Ruslan’s eyes widened, and the other soldiers’ jaws dropped, but Kozlov, to his credit, had no visible response. If anything, he just looked curious. “You’d kill yourself?” He asked.  
Barnes swallowed hard. “Yes.”  
“To be free of me?”  
“Yes.”  
Kozlov frowned and shook his head. “Oh, James. You forget your place”  
Barnes subconsciously pressed the blade harder against his skin, drawing blood. “I know my place.”  
“Do you.” The colonel pursed his lips and then, after a moment, stepped to one side. “Alright, then, James. Go ahead.”  
All of Barnes’ instincts screamed that this was a trap, but he didn’t care. The open path to freedom was the only thing he saw. He darted towards the door.  
“Longing.”  
A brutal force slammed against Barnes’ chest, knocking him backwards.  
“Rusted.”  
Barnes grasped roughly at his shirt as he tried to escape Kozlov’s voice, the metal fingers of his left hand chafing the skin.  
“Seventeen.”  
The knife clattered to the floor. “Stop,” he whispered.  
“Daybreak.”  
“Please.” Barnes fell to his knees, voice rising with every word. “Please!”  
“Furnace.”  
“Shut up!” He howled, pressing his hands against his ears as a searing pain shot through his temples. “Shut up!”  
“Nine.”  
Ruslan moved to haul Barnes to his feet, but Kozlov held up a hand, staying him for the moment.  
“Benign.”  
“No!” Barnes screamed. He slammed his fists against his head and screamed again, not noticing how both metal and skin came away covered in blood. “Stop it! Stop it!”  
“Homecoming.”  
Red, white, blue, and a flicker of yellow streaked across his vision and he cried out once more, trying to fight it, trying to force the words and images from his mind.  
“One.”  
“I’ll be good,” Barnes pleaded, a cracked moan slipping from between his lips. “I’ll be good, I’ll be good, just stop it, stop all of it, please.” He dug his nails into his skin as he whispered that final word over and over and over again.  
_please please please please please pl_  
“Freight car.”  
Barnes froze for a moment, and Kozlov smiled as he saw the tears stop, the breathing slow, and every last bit of light fade from his prisoner’s eyes.  
“Good evening, soldier,” the colonel said, and The Winter Soldier rose to his feet, gaze dead as he murmured the controlled response: “Ready to comply.”  
“Atta boy.” Kozlov clapped a hand against The Winter Soldier’s cheek. “I’ve got a new mission for you.” He reached inside his leather coat and removed a photograph, then held it up in front of the other man’s face. “Do you recognize him?” He asked.  
The picture was a blur; all The Winter Soldier could make out was red, white, blue, and yellow---  
For a quick second, all of the air was gone from his lungs.  
_I know him._  
“Soldier.”  
The Winter Soldier snapped to attention. “No, sir.”  
“He’s called Captain America,” Kozlov said. “He’s your new target.”

===============================

“Captain America.” A soft, womanly voice turned crystalline blue eyes, which crinkled slightly upon recognizing a friend.  
“Black Widow.” Steve Rogers offered the agent a curt smile, professionalism reining the desire to flash his pearly whites.  
Stepping out of his doorway, Natasha crinkled her nose in distaste. “Steve, you know I don’t want you to use my professional name. That’s Pierce’s job.”  
The blonde super soldier shrugged and shifted over to make room for her on his bed. “I’m an old fashioned guy, sorry.” He glanced over at the redheaded bombshell as she made herself comfortable next to him.  
“To what do I owe the visit? Don’t we usually meet in the mess hall?”  
She nodded, and pulled a picture out of her pocket.  
“New mission. Sorry for the short notice, Alexander only just let me know, too. Apparently he’s a Russian assassin. Causing some trouble for the bosses, so who else to call but their favorite toy soldier?” She scanned his face and sighed when she saw only disdain.  
“I know you just got back from Korea, but this is the last one for a while. I’ll make sure you get a break when you get back, okay?”  
Steve said nothing, only reached out and plucked the photograph from her nimble fingers. He paused on it for a moment, not truly seeing the man pictured. When a red star caught his attention, he straightened abruptly, startling Romanov.  
“What? You know him or something?”  
“…No… I don’t know anyone not from this base. You know that…” He spoke quietly, eyes flickering across every aspect of the picture.  
“Well, of course. You have no memories. I just thought….”  
“I get it.” The light blue shirt he wore seemed to constrict around him, and Steve felt his breathing grow uneven.  
“He’s so… familiar…” His fingers glid over grain of the masked man, and his brows furrowed in concentration.  
Black Widow held a concerned stare on Steve’s face, never having seen such an expression on her charge. She glanced back down at the Russian assassin, words flowing out of her mouth before she consciously thought to say them.  
“They call him the Winter Soldier. He’s got 203 confirmed kills, and he works for White Rabbit. Apparently he’s got pretty similar training and… abilities as you, so you were the number one choice. The biggest difference between you two is environment, really. Our mole tells us he’s like a caged dog. And cold. He feels nothing, so you don’t need to have your normal guilt about killing him. It’s a get in, get out job. No complications. No mess.  
“They’re sending you out tomorrow.”  
At this, Steve finally looked up, and his blue eyes swam in confusion. For some reason, this mission felt… wrong. Every mission felt wrong, but despite the draw he experienced for this man, he didn’t want to be anywhere near him.  
“You’ll be debriefed in an hour. I’m sorry, Steve.” Natasha laid a hand on his back for a moment, feeling ragged breath under too-warm skin.  
Then she rose from the bed and left him with the picture, looking back as his eyes turned down to the Russian. Pity stirred in her chest, and she swallowed hard. Steve didn’t deserve this life. He deserved to be the hero he was. Every time she was forced to say the words, Natasha felt another piece of her soul rip away and fall into the black that held all of her worst feelings and memories.  
When she could no longer call her concern professional, the agent stormed away, cursing the world that had made her dear friend into a tool of death.  
Steve sat on his bed, a strange numbness trickling into his fingertips. Tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter whether he wanted to kill the Winter Soldier or not. He would be “Captain America”, and he would kill whoever he was told.  
He tucked the photo into his jeans and pushed himself off the bed, its familiar squeak of relief sounding as his weight lifted. Steve rolled his stiff neck and stretched out his body, the hard lines of muscle beneath his clothes flexing as he moved. A hand moved to run through his clean cut hair, which drifted to grip the back of his neck.  
Korea had not been a pleasant journey, and now he was being shipped out again. His body didn’t feel tired, but he most certainly was.  
The super soldier walked across the room to his modest closet, where the suits he used for debriefs were hung up neatly, accompanied by his trademark “Captain America” uniform, and some casual clothes for when he had downtime. He pulled out a crisp brown piece, complete with medals and ribbons, and began to dress, all the while, his mood growing sourer.  
By the time he was making his way to the Black Hawk meeting room, a dark anger sat like a pit in his stomach. He pulled open the doors and the pit immediately grew as he saw his least favorite person.  
Alexander Pierce.  
The man was the “big boss” of Black Hawk, and treated Steve as his personal errand boy. He was egotistical, selfish, and frankly, a dick. He treated human life like a chess game, and didn’t care how many pawns he sacrificed. The only reason Steve was allowed the freedoms and privilege he had was because he was useful. He was a rook.  
Despite his reluctance for the man, some of the assignments he received from him involved intelligence gathering and body guarding. Those were his favorite kinds of missions. They meant he didn’t have to kill.  
Upon seeing him, Pierce smiled widely and gave a mock two-finger salute.  
“Captain.”  
Steve snapped to attention until Pierce laughed and coughed out an “at ease.” It was another hobby of his to make fun of Steve’s hardwired obedience.  
Relaxing his body, the blonde forced his face into controlled neutrality and tried to listen as the mission was explained.  
“Well, Captain, as I’m sure the lovely Black Widow has explained to you, this is another assassination detail.” He waved a hand at Natasha, who stood in the corner, beautiful face in the same practiced mask as Steve’s. The super soldier felt his mouth pull at the corners.  
“Yes, sir.”  
“And I’m sure she explained the target’s background and why we just had to send you after him.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Good. But what she hasn’t told you is that he’s coming to us. Our mole has given us the information that he is being sent to the States to kill someone.” He stepped in front of Steve, having to tilt his head to look into his eyes.  
“To kill you.”  
A muscle twitched in Steve’s jaw, and the hands folded neatly in front of him squeezed tightly. Nothing about this was going to be good.  
Alexander’s dull blue eyes flickered across his face, and in the silence, Natasha cleared her throat, trying to end the tension.  
Pierce finally stepped back and picked up a manila file resting on the shining mahogany table. He pressed it into Steve’s chest and moved to stand beside him.  
“Good luck, Captain America.”  
Then he was gone, hand leaving his chest, and Steve reaching to grab the documents before they fell.  
So much for a debriefing.  
Romanov also walked out, resting her hand on his shoulder briefly before she passed him.  
Then, Steve was left alone again; the files in his hand heavier than they should have been.  
\----------------------


	3. Chapter 3

_Captain._  
 _he’s_  
 _Sir_  
 _he’s coming_  
 _Yes, sir._  
 _to kill_  
 _Sir._  
 _to kill you_  
 _Captain._  
The plane shook and The Winter Soldier opened his eyes.  
He knew he recognized the man in the photograph. He’d seen him before, in his dreams. He’d not thought much of it until now, especially since he actually enjoyed seeing him every time he managed to catch a few hours of sleep. In his experience, if something good happened, it was the wisest choice not to question it. So he didn’t.  
“James.”  
After a little while, the man’s voice visited him during the day as well. But, unlike the dreams, the whispered words were stunted and faint, and most times The Asset had no idea what the man was talking about. But he didn’t fight or question this either. This was the only piece of his existence that Kozlov did not control. And he liked having something to himself, even if it was only a figment of his imagination.  
“Sergeant Barnes.”  
But when Kozlov showed him the picture of his dream companion, he suddenly found himself confronted with the possibility that everything he’d witnessed in sleep or while awake was reality. He didn’t truly believe this theory, however, until the appearance of the words he felt breathed into his ear as he sat in the plane. Did The Captain really know he was coming for him?  
“Sergeant Barnes, answer me.”  
The Winter Soldier looked to the opposite side of the hold, to where Kozlov and Ruslan sat; if he could feel any real emotion at this moment, he might have wrinkled his nose in confusion. Apart from the pilot and co-pilot, they were the only three on board. Whoever the colonel was talking to was not on this plane.  
Ruslan placed a hand on Kozlov’s arm and quietly murmured to him a few words. The older man eventually nodded and looked back across from him. “Soldier,” he said, and immediately The Asset snapped to attention. Ruslan gave the colonel a slight nod.  
“We are almost over the drop zone,” Kozlov began. “It is a few rooftops away from where we believe to be Captain America’s place of residence. On reaching the ground, you are to go there.”  
“Is he in the apartment?” The Winter Soldier asked.  
“No. According to his neighbor - a woman on our payroll - he is, at the moment, out.”  
“What would you have me do?”  
“Don’t kill him in his home. We want his death to be on public display. Show Black Hawk what White Rabbit is capable of.” Kozlov held out a slip of paper. “This is The Captain’s address. Once inside, see if he has a schedule, a calendar, something. Pick a moment when he will be in a highly populated area. Then set yourself up on a rooftop, and take him out.”  
The Winter Soldier took the paper, took in the words scrawled across it, and then slipped it inside his pack. “This could be messy, sir,” he said. “Killing him out in the open, going into his home… There are a lot of variables.”  
“Are you saying you are incapable of completing the job?”  
The Asset’s eyes flashed. “You will not find someone more capable, sir. That does not take away from---”  
“Longing.”  
Grimacing in anticipated pain, The Winter Soldier quickly added, “But it will be done.”  
Kozlov nodded. “Thank you.”  
Ruslan got to his feet and flicked two switches on the ceiling. “Time to go, soldier,” he ordered as the floor began to fall away.  
Watching as The Asset buckled his pack, the colonel smiled. “You’re doing the world a great service, my boy.”  
The Winter Soldier nodded and slipped on his mask and goggles. “It is my honor, sir.” And with two quick steps, he was out in the open air.  
Kozlov stared at the place his soldier had previously occupied. “Was--- was he wearing a parachute?” He asked.  
“No,” Ruslan smiled, shaking his head. “No, he was not.”  
=================  
Steve sat staring at the walls of his kitchen. His hands laid curled in each other on his lap, which was adorned with military-grade padded pants. The same kind of heavy material that covered the rest of his body. It was his famous uniform for when he was “Captain America”, complete with stars and stripes.  
He’d always wondered why the majority of it was blue. It wasn’t very practical for missions, and there wasn’t even any red on the outfit. Steve had always supposed it was for the showmanship. He needed to look impressive if he wanted to represent the country that his dear Miss America had become.  
Closing his eyes after what seemed like hours, Rogers let his head and shoulders drop. He hadn’t slept that night, anticipation for today’s mission creating a buzz in his head that refused to quiet. Not that he really missed much. His dreams had always been more wearing than restful. The photograph Natasha gave him yesterday laid on the counter, and it acted like a beacon, always drawing Steve’s eye.  
He was supposed to kill this man today.  
Snuff him out like an overused candle.  
He would have no more thoughts.  
No more wants.  
No more desires.  
He’d just be gone.  
He wouldn’t exist anymore.  
And it would be because of Captain America.  
Steve cursed under his breath and stood, the rickety chair under him pushed back with a screech. He only had an hour left.  
An hour left to be Steve.  
He swiped the picture off the counter and stuffed it into his jacket, not knowing why he was still hanging onto it. It sat in his breast pocket, creating a peculiar warmth that the soldier tried to ignore. He stepped out of the kitchen, surveying his apartment with a quaint fondness.  
The place was small, but it was his home. As a reward for showing up at his daughter’s birthday party, Pierce had allowed him to find residence away from the base. Of course, it had to be within a certain radius, but Steve wasn’t going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.  
Walking along a bookshelf, he ran his fingers along the spines of his favorites. It was a small collection, seeing as how he barely had time to read, but they were still his. Quite a few were gifts from Natasha. He’d laughed when she’d first handed him “Spying for Dummies”.  
A buzz on his side made the blonde look down, and he grabbed the pager, reading the curt direction that flashed across the screen. His expression darkened and Steve placed it back on his belt, heading to the door.  
Time to go to work.  
Early.  
Outside in the hallway, Black Widow leaned against a wall, her body language saying exactly what they both felt.  
“Let’s get this over with.”  
No point in delaying the inevitable, the agent nodded at Steve in apology and began reciting the words.  
“Carter.”  
Steve’s back straightened, as if a metal rod had been forced in alignment with his spine.  
“Sullied.”  
His legs pulled in and stood rigid straight.  
“Dahlia.”  
Arms flattened at his sides, pinned motionless.  
“Three.”  
His shoulders squared.  
“Winter.”  
His gaze flashed forward.  
“Rook.”  
Breath evened out.  
“Empire.”  
His jaw set.  
“Hubris.”  
Eyes glazed over.  
“Shelter.”  
His mind fogged.  
“Initiative.”  
Captain America stood in control, Steve Rogers watching through his eyes like a child watching the world through his window.  
“At ease, Captain.”  
The Captain eased into parade rest, curtained blue eyes staring straight over Romanov’s head. His hands flew to grasp each other behind his back, and his stance widened, ready to be commanded.  
Natasha looked up at the man with a mix of sympathy and awe, as she always did. No matter how she hated making Steve like this, the Captain never ceased to be impressive.  
“You are aware of your mission. The Winter Soldier will be coming after you as you walk the streets. Most likely he’ll be taking an aboveground position in an opportunity to snipe. You are to walk through the streets, and keep a low profile. Once you spot him, pursue. You know what to do from there. Am I clear, Captain?”  
The super soldier snapped into a quick salute, and Black Widow nodded.  
“Dismissed.”  
The Captain silently eased his way down the hall, until Natasha could no longer see him. She sighed and glanced into Steve’s apartment, pain restricting her breathing as she saw the copy of “The Old Man and the Sea” she’d given him sitting on his coffee table. It was lying upside down, barely read.  
\----------------  
The Winter Soldier hit the rooftop at breakneck speed, quickly dropping and rolling to avoid destroying his legs. Whatever he was, whatever had been done to him all those years ago, it made him nearly invincible. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t bleed or feel pain; he’d been through enough torture to know that such things were very, very possible. But when it came to mortality…  
According to various doctors and scientists, it appeared that, for him, death was impossible. That was how, during an escape attempt, Ruslan knew it was safe to shoot him in the back. To be honest, he almost despised this “immortality”. All it did was keep him under Kozlov’s control.  
The Asset tightened the pack across his chest and headed towards the fire escape. While his touchdown on the roof was loud and heavy, his steps down the metal staircase were unbelievably light, especially considering his metal arm. Finally, he found himself on the sixth floor landing just outside the room inhabited by Kozlov’s contact. Locking his fingers around the bottom edge of the window, he easily forced it open, tossing his bag inside and climbing in after it.  
He was barely halfway into the room when he heard a soft creak to his right. Without a thought, he turned on his would-be assailant, paying no mind to the weapon in her hand as he threw her against the wall. He approached her slowly, completely at ease, watching as she picked herself up off the ground and raise the gun once more. But he just reached out and, taking the muzzle in his metal grasp, crushed it like it was no more than a piece of paper. “Don’t scream,” he said, voice low, and the woman obeyed.  
“Are you the soldier?” She asked, trying and failing to hide her fear.  
“I am,” he replied. “You have information for me?”  
She nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.” Prying herself out of The Asset’s grasp, she moved towards the desk sitting opposite her bed. She pulled open a drawer and took out a large binder. “These are my notes,” she said, offering it to him. “It details The Captain’s comings and goings, habitual or otherwise.”  
The Winter Soldier took the folder in his hands and flipped it open. On the very first page, there was a picture of The Captain. But this one wasn’t blurry, wasn’t made unintelligible by distance or movement. It was a complete profile: blonde hair, leather jacket, and all. He swallowed hard.  
“Will you be needing anything else from me?”  
He looked up as he took the photograph from the file and tucked it in the folds of his jacket. “No. That is all.” Pulling the goggles up onto his forehead, he asked, “What is your name?”  
“Kate,” she replied softly, tucking a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear.  
“Well. Kate.” He offered her a small nod. “White Rabbit thanks you for your service.” Before she could say another word, he slipped a gun from one of his thigh holsters and raised it, firing twice into her left shoulder.  
Eyes wide, Kate let out a choked gasp and fell backwards onto the floor.  
The Winter Soldier grunted softly as he put his weapon away. Reopening the Captain America file, he took out the pages one-by-one and began using the tacks on Kate’s desk to pin them on the wall in front of him. Once finished, he took out a knife and began carving a design into the desk. After about thirty seconds, he looked down at the finished piece of work: a large star, above which were written the Russian words “Watch your back, Cap”.  
Leaving the blade embedded in the desk and Kate’s body on the floor, The Asset pulled his pack back on and moved out into the hallway. He walked a single door down, from room 703 to 701, and, without further ado, kicked the door open. But he’d barely stepped foot in the room when he heard raucous laughter and a dozen feet pounding up the stairs.  
College students.  
The Winter Soldier grimaced. They would no doubt see the broken door, and he couldn’t take the chance as to whether or not they would call the police. It would be a pain but, for right now, it didn’t matter. He would find The Captain another way; he had to come back to his apartment at some point. Maybe he’d even show up when they found Kate’s body. Whatever happened, all he could do now was wait.  
Moving quickly, he sprinted through The Captain’s apartment, towards the farthest window. The last thing he heard before he jumped through it was a loud, drunk-infused “Holy shit!” He pulled the goggles back down over his eyes as he broke through the glass, smiling slightly behind the mask.  
This was going to be fun to watch.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

Cities had never been the Captain’s favorite place to operate. They were busy, loud, and bustling with witnesses. For an assassin, not to mention a Black Hawk assassin, it was a complete nightmare to hunt. Since he usually relied on subterfuge and tracking, locations where it was easy to duck away, become someone else, and hide in plain sight were just a pain.  
The Captain was not used to being hunted. In this situation, all he could do was wait for the Winter Soldier to make the first move.  
It made him uneasy.  
He walked the lower streets, ignoring each cautious gaze. He’d passed a jacket stand a few blocks back, and purchased a tan windbreaker. It hid the nature of his clothes, and made him less noticeable, but it made him look like someone on the run. Like he was escaping the law.  
Had he a sense of humor at that moment, the soldier would have laughed.  
The law ran from him.  
A series of footsteps behind him made the Captain stop. He listened silently as they also slowed to a halt, and his hand drifted to the gun at his side. Gravel crunched under a heavy boot and the assassin reeled around, weapon already drawn, cocked, and steadied. The muzzle of his gun stopped centimeters short of a man’s crooked nose, and his pursuer tripped backwards with a panicked gasp, landing on his backside.  
The Captain stared down at the now seated greying man, who looked back with an expression of pure terror. Something twitched in his chest at the sight.  
“Name and purpose”, the Captain ordered.  
“T-theo. T-theo Blackson. Black Hawk s-survey intelligence. P-please don’t s-shoot, sir.” Theo held up his shaking hands in surrender, and the Captain released an imperceptible breath. He holstered the gun and stepped back into an eased stance.  
“Report.”  
Theo’s eyes flickered across his face in surprise, as if he were looking for a joke that the super soldier was incapable of telling. He wobbled to his feet and stood across from him, lips trembling.  
“Information on the Winter Soldier has been updated. Mr. Pierce said we weren’t to communicate with you via your pager in case of the signal being hacked.” He paused, taking a much needed breath.  
“The Soldier broke into yours and your neighbor’s apartment. She was killed, and the Soldier left a message saying he was coming for you. Apparently the woman was a Russian spy, responsible for passing along information on you. It’s pinned up on the walls of her apartment. Mr. Pierce’s orders are to continue the mission, and under no circumstances are you to return to your apartment. There will be a self-induced dead zone for the city in thirty minutes. He says to use it creatively.”  
The Captain took the information in stride, and nodded to the agent, passing him by without another word. With the dead zone, it meant there would be no communication, no satellite technology, and no escape. Had the Soldier planned on fleeing if he took the Captain out, he would be out of luck.  
It seemed Alexander Pierce was giving him the reins, so he was free to design the plan himself.  
The blonde picked up the pace until he was thundering through city streets, tearing the jacket off his back as if it were paper. He gained speed until he finally broke out onto a main road, flitting alongside the traffic with ease. Horns accompanied his run, and people shouted at him from inside their cars.  
The Captain shrugged them off, focusing solely on the mission. Only when lights began to flicker out in front of him, did he launch himself out of the congestion and land atop a paved roof.  
He watched as everything began to grow dark, the only lights of the streets being each passing car, and the clouded sun above. If it was a game of cat and mouse the Soldier wanted, a game he would get. But he wouldn’t be the one squeaking.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
The Winter Soldier huffed softly.  
He’d spent the last hour on a rooftop a few buildings away from Kate’s apartment. It’d taken the police an absurd amount of time to arrive but, true to their reputation, once Black Hawk was on the scene, they got to work and had the block shut down within three minutes.  
Settling his breathing, he readjusted the position of his rifle. He could see everything that was going on around the apartment through the scope and, though it was what he was expecting, he was still extremely irritated. Black Hawk was extending its lockdown to further streets; they were obviously in the midst of trying to bring the chaos of the city to a lull.  
They were looking for him, of course they were. They thought that, with the city slowed down, they would--- no, _The Captain_ would be able to find him. The Asset set his teeth, a low growl rising in his throat. How dare they, how _dare_ they. He was the hunter, the predator, the lion. And this Captain, this blonde-haired, blue-eyed son of a bitch was the mouse. He was going to blow apart his pretty, little face, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.  
The Winter Soldier looked up from the gun, allowing his eyes to skim the buildings surrounding him. It should be impossible, finding The Captain in this mess, even if the city was beginning to quiet down. But for some reason, for some reason he knew he was there. He knew he was there, and somewhere close. God only knew why, but he could feel it. He could feel him.  
_There._  
Moving quickly across a building a few dozen yards away was a man clad in entirely in blue, the tell-tale Miss America star on his chest a clear give-away of his identity. Either The Captain wanted to be found, or the man in charge of Black Hawk had decided that looks were more important than stealth. Considering that this was, in fact, America, The Winter Soldier figured that it was mainly, if not completely, the latter. Far be it from the Americans to stop looking pretty for five seconds and actually get things done.  
The Captain was moving far too fast to be caught in the scope of the rifle, something The Asset had never witnessed before. Yes, he was annoyed, but he was also a bit impressed.  
Kozlov had ensured from the very beginning that his soldier, while under his control, would be incapable of emotions. The only feeling he allowed to remain intact was anger, which turned out to be a great benefit to the colonel and White Rabbit. They discovered that, when entrapped in rage, The Asset became colder, more viscous, and more efficient than ever before.  
Kozlov would not be happy knowing what The Winter Soldier was feeling currently, to say the least.  
Removing the scope from the rifle, he slipped the small piece of equipment back into his pack. Then he raised the gun up to his shoulder. Eyeing the target was not foolproof, but it was his only option, save meeting him on the streets below.  
The Asset followed The Captain as he came closer, ready to pull the trigger, but for some reason he felt something holding him back.  
_Longing,_ he imagined Kozlov whisper, and that was all it took.  
He cocked the gun and fired.  
\------------------------------------------  
The Captain felt a chill run up his spine. He swiveled his head around, eyes rapidly surveying his environment. There was only ever one reason for this kind of paranoid, unsettled presence to sit in his gut. A reason the Captain had only ever experienced once.  
He was being watched.  
Pulling out a small disk of metal from his pocket, the Captain raised it in front of himself, clicking a small button on the side in the process. The disk let loose a high-pitched mechanical whirr before expanding exponentially, covering the soldier’s full upper half.  
The shield expanded fully just in time for a heavy force to strike against it. The Captain grunted in surprise, and peered over the protective piece to study what had struck it.  
Upon seeing a rifle bullet squarely embedded in the folds of metal, the Captain thanked his instincts for being so accurate. Had be been a second later, the tiny piece of metal would be lodged in him rather than the shield. Why didn’t he carry one of these all the time? Had he a different profession, such an item might have been his main weapon.  
His cerulean eyes drifted upwards, and immediately found themselves trapped in an equally blue gaze.  
Steve’s breath caught in his throat, and he lowered the shield slightly. The picture was not an accurate depiction of the Russian at all, it seemed. Only a few buildings away stood the Winter Soldier, and Steve thanked his lucky stars that his eyes were among the senses that were enhanced.  
The man was the epitome of power and savage grace. A Russian military uniform outfitted him, and where heavy black fabric covered one arm, the other was bare, giving a clear view of his silver, metallic implant.  
And Steve thought his gimmick was conspicuous.  
Below them both, traffic sped by, accompanied by the occasional horn and New York pleasantries. The sounds drew Steve out of his reverie and he reached to pull the bullet out of his shield, eyes never leaving the Soldier. He held it in the palm of his hand, and tossed it in the air once, twice, before curling his fingers around it and winding his arm back.  
He threw the crushed piece with his full strength, and with a satisfying “thunk”, it sank into the metal venting just beside the Soldier’s head.  
“I think that’s yours”, Steve said, a small smile presenting itself with a twitch of his mouth.  
Somehow, this action felt natural. He was unconcerned about the vulnerability of his position, and the rifle his opponent currently had pointed at him. If he needed to, the Captain would take control, but for now, Steve enjoyed the feeling stirring in his chest.  
This was… right?  
The man standing mere feet from him seemed familiar in a way the blonde was unable to identify. Even more intense at this moment than when he’d first seen the photograph Nat gave him.  
What strange circumstance this was.  
His mouse was a blindingly beautiful man. And Steve didn’t want to hunt him.  
\---------------  
The Winter Soldier’s nose wrinkled in annoyance. Oh, good. His target had a sense of humor.  
Holding the rifle in one hand, he pulled his goggles up onto his forehead and threw a glance towards the bullet embedded mere centimeters from his ear. “I kind of hope you were trying to miss,” he said, voice surprisingly clear through the mask.  
After about four months of complaining to Ruslan, The Asset’s request for a thinner muzzle finally found its way to Kozlov, who immediately acquiesced. It made no sense to send a mute on missions, especially when he had to gather information. So the front of the mask was redesigned. The only downside was that, while the modifications were being made, Kozlov put in an order to make it so that the mask was unable to be removed unless you had the keycode. Ruslan joked that this addition solidified his place in White Rabbit’s food chain. He was Kozlov’s dog; or, in Ruslan’s terms, Kozlov’s bitch. He wasn’t wrong.  
“You knew I was coming for you,” The Asset continued, lowering the weapon slightly. “Even before your owners found the girl’s body. You knew.” He cocked his head. “Were you friends with her? The girl, I mean. I’m pretty sure she told me her name before I killed her but…” He shrugged. “Not that you would care. You’d probably say the bitch had it coming.”  
What was he doing? He never talked this much during a mission, let alone to the person he was supposed to kill. But this pull he felt towards the man… It had nothing to do with the soft blue eyes or his perfect jaw - though those things really didn’t help either - but with something else, something besides the physical that caused his chest to tighten and made his stomach swirl.  
_Longing._  
The Winter Soldier reflexively tightened his grip on the rifle. “I do like the shield though. I might just take it for myself. After I kill you, of course.”  
\---------------------  
Steve breathed quickly out through his nose, disguising a puff of laughter that wanted to escape.  
“Of course I was trying to miss. I finally have some freedom to do this how I want. It’d be a shame to end it immediately. Though I doubt you would have let it hit you, anyway.” Steve lied through his teeth; something he’d gotten quite good at. Finally having the man who’d invaded his thoughts for the past two days in front of him was almost surreal. He’d known it would happen, as all of his missions eventually did, but this one was thrilling. The photo he’d been given still burned in his pocket, but it was less of a distraction and more of an aid to focus. Steve had decided the moment he saw the Soldier that he wasn’t going to kill him. But he had to talk like he was.  
He was going to miss Nat, and reading, but he was sick of being an errand boy. What was there to live for when all you did was make it so other people couldn’t?  
That didn’t mean his last few moments couldn’t be enjoyable. He’d decided he was going to let this man kill him. Might as well get to know him a bit.  
When the Winter Soldier mentioned Kate, his face darkened. He hadn’t known, but he had suspected. The girl was always friendly with him, and despite her best efforts, the slight Russian lilt was unable to abandon her voice completely.  
“Yes, I knew. Her name was Kate. And she made a mean apple pie. Not that you’d know, though. It looks like White Rabbit keeps you so tightly leashed that good food doesn’t make it within fifty feet of you. I’m sorry about that.” He spoke softly, eyes downcast.  
“Maybe they’re the ones who actually have it coming.” Steve glanced up through his lashes, a silent menace hovering around him. He watched the Soldier for a moment before winding down. This man was brainwashed. Tortured until so, most likely. Steve’s aggression would get him nowhere.  
He felt a heavy sadness sit on his heart at the sight of the brunette before him.  
I could have ended up like him.  
“I like it too, to be perfectly honest”, Steve said abruptly, returning to the conversation. “Haven’t had much use of it until now. So thanks for the opportunity, I guess.” He shrugged the shield, looking at it appreciatively.  
“I think they have a better one back at base, but it’s not painted yet, so I can’t have it.” He joked casually about Black Hawk’s ridiculous need for flair. “Supposed to be made of some indestructible metal. So if you kill me, go for that one.” His eyes rose back to meet the now exposed gaze of the Soldier, challenging him with a smirk.  
“If you kill me, that is.”  
You could have been like me.  
…  
I could have been like you.  
…  
Maybe we can fix this.  
Maybe I can fix you.  
“Come on, Bunny. Show me what you’ve got.”  
\-----------------


	5. Chapter 5

The Asset growled sharply behind his mask.  
During his time with White Rabbit, he had been given many nicknames: Jimmy, soldier, and bitch, to name a few. But bunny? It was obviously a play on the organization’s name, but that didn’t make it any less insulting.  
“Captain America,” he snarled, moving slowly towards the edge of the roof. “Now that you mention it, you’re lookin’ pretty good for someone so well-fed. Did your owners know you were eating Kate’s “mean apple pie”? If they’re anything like mine, I’m sure they’d be downright pissed.” He laughed, voice rough. “Black Hawk’s golden boy, getting plump off of a Russian spy’s desserts.”  
The Winter Soldier’s eyes flicked about his opponent’s muscular form, making certain he didn’t miss any hidden weapons. “You wanna know why they had me kill her?” He continued, eventually glancing up. “The poor girl had a crush on you, Blue.” A smile pulled at his lips, one he figured, if The Captain could see, would have earned him a broken jaw. “From what I heard, she was a damn good spy too. But after her reports became fewer and less detailed, the bosses figured it out. If you’d gone back to her apartment, you’d probably have noticed there were no pictures of you from at least the past month. So…” He slipped the rifle strap over his head and swung the gun around, letting it hang behind him. “...it had to be done. Though I am a bit disappointed you didn’t get to see the note I left.” He shrugged. “Eh. Doesn’t matter now.”  
Unlatching both thigh holsters, The Asset touched his fingers lightly against the handles of the weapons. “Now it’s just you and me, Blue. I guess all that really matters now is who’s gonna shoot first.”  
================  
“I’d hope they knew. I always brought leftovers.” Steve’s voice grew hard despite the teasing nature of his words. The Winter Soldier was approaching dangerous territory, and he could feel it just from the tension in the air. The Soldier was going to try to rile him, and if it was about Kate, chances were he’d be successful. Steve didn’t have many friends, but he had considered her one of them.  
Despite his irritation, the eyes roaming his form caused the Captain to tense up, and a not exactly unpleasant heat pooled around his abdomen. At the brunette’s next words, however, the pleasantness vanished, replaced by anger.  
“Did you enjoy killing her? Was it just something those sick bastards stuck in your brain? Like your contempt? Or is it just stupidity?” He reached a hand behind him, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his knife. Steve stared the Soldier down, conflicted and confused. His anger made being objective difficult, but so did the strange draw he felt. He wanted to save this man. Even if it meant not saving all of him.  
In one fluid motion, Steve pulled the knife out and threw it full force, visualizing his target. The Winter Soldier’s shoulder, right where metal met flesh.  
\-----------------  
The Asset flinched at the mention of his handlers, but no sooner did the anger begin to swirl in his stomach when The Captain threw the knife. Crossing his right arm over his chest, he caught the weapon just before it would have embedded itself in his shoulder.  
He glared at his opponent as he flung the knife aside. “Age before beauty, apparently,” he quipped, then immediately slipped both guns from their holsters. “My turn.” He raised them and fired.  
\-------------------  
Steve cursed and flattened himself to the floor, only his fingertips and balls of his feet holding him off it completely. His chest brushed the gritty concrete, and he breathed out slowly, remembering his training. He rolled to avoid the second, third, and fourth shots, finally twisting onto his feet as the fifth and sixth shot threw up gravel where he had just been.  
“If I read your file right, we’re the same age, James Buchanan Barnes. And I’m offended. The girls at the office tell me I’m very pretty.” Steve fiddled with the damaged shield in his grasp as the empty clip was refilled.  
“So what do I call you? ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ is a mouthful, and you don’t look like a James…” He scratched his cheek with his unoccupied hand and frowned.  
“How about Bucky? Or Buck.” The blonde stilled, the sound of the nickname feeling appropriate.  
“I like it. How about you? I could always continue calling you ‘Bunny’ if you disagree.” He tucked his arm into the straps on the inside of the shield and rushed forward, holding it in front of him like a battering ram. With a few bounding strides, Steve cleared the roof, and was over the bridge of traffic. He landed in front of his opponent on the raised edge and looked down at him, unsure of what expression to make.  
How do you reason with a brainwashed assassin?  
\-----------------  
_James Buchanan Barnes_  
The name hit The Winter Soldier like a truck, every bit of breath stolen from him at once. He recognized the name, he swore he knew who it belonged to, but he couldn’t make the connection, he couldn’t, who the hell was  
_James Buchanan Barnes_  
When The Captain said it, he could hear a Russian lilt touch upon the edges of the words, almost as if it was Kozlov saying it instead, or Ruslan. Saying it to him. But it wasn’t his name. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t  
_James Buchanan Barnes_  
“That’s not my name,” The Asset shot back. Never during one of his missions had he experienced emotions like this; he felt angry, unsettled. His chest was tight and his head spun, symptoms he’d only suffered in Kozlov’s presence. “That’s not my name!” He barked again, voice strained.  
_Bucky? Or Buck._  
The Winter Soldier locked his jaw. Better. That was better. But it still felt like a shot to the stomach. Not that it mattered; Miss America would be dead before he could say either nickname again.  
He slid both guns back into their holsters and reached behind his back for the two army knives clipped to his belt. But before he could even pull them out, The Captain was right in front of him, staring down at him through The Asset’s long, brown hair. With a low growl, The Winter Soldier released his hold on the weapons.  
“If I were you, Blue,” he said, “I’d shut the hell up.” Then, before The Captain had time to respond, The Winter Soldier rushed him, wrapping him up in a bear hug and forcing the both of them over the side of the building.  
\----------------------------------  
Steve grunted in surprise, the sudden force that struck his middle stealing his breath. The Soldier hit like a truck, and for a moment, all he could do was struggle to fill his lungs. Almost like it wasn’t there, the shield had been ducked under, and made useless for the Captain. He took a moment to feel impressed. It hadn’t even occurred to him that their fight would be continued mid-air.  
The admiration faded fast, however, much like their altitude. The way they were falling, Steve was going to hit first, and though the fall wouldn’t kill him, it would almost certainly knock him out. He could afford that.  
He swept aside his would-be reaction to the Soldier’s frantic denial and got to work.  
Steve pushed at Bucky’s hips with his locked arms, creating a small gap between them, where he was able to tuck an arm in, and press it against the brunette’s neck. Soon after, he added his other arm and mirrored the motion on the other side of his neck. He folded his hands around Bucky’s head, using his downward pointing thumbs to stab into his jugular.  
He wrapped his free legs around the Soldier’s and used his weight to throw them into opposite positions.  
If the pressure on his throat didn’t send him to dreamland, the fast approaching concrete below would. Hopefully they’d land on something soft. Like a car.  
\----------------------  
For a normal man, a moment like this would have been terrifying. Here they were, falling from God knows how many stories up, one of them bound to hit the ground at a back-breaking speed.  
But for The Asset - and, he could only assume, The Captain - there would be no major injuries. Perhaps a bruised rib or a concussion, but nothing more than that. Fortunately, his opponent was pulled tightly to his chest and, more importantly, below him. He would hit the ground first, easily breaking The Winter Soldier’s fall. And with him indisposed, reeling or perhaps even unconscious from the collision, The Asset could easily kill him. The only thing he would have to decide at that point would be what method he would use to send him to hell.  
Suddenly he felt a pressure against his abdomen, a pressure that continued to climb until all at once he recognized the feeling of two firm hands wrapped tightly around his throat. Sucking in as much air as he could, he released the metal grasp he had on The Captain’s waist and held the arm out to one side, prepared to slam it back against the man’s torso, something hard enough to knock the wind out of him, in turn weakening the grip he had on his neck.  
But he didn’t have the chance to do any of that. No sooner had he begun to extend his arm did he feel the two of them turn briskly through the air, their positions quickly swapped, with The Winter Soldier now in place to take the full brunt of the fall. He roared at The Captain through his mask, a wordless sound made even more strained due to lack of oxygen.  
A blackness flitted at the corners of his eyes, creeping slowly inward as he began to fade away. Dredging up every last bit of strength, he sent his metal arm towards The Captain’s face, slamming his fist harshly against his jaw. He had just enough time to feel his opponent’s blood fleck the skin above his mask when they finally hit, their combined body weight caving in the roof of a tan Cadillac.  
This time the darkness didn’t wait. Unconsciousness overtook The Winter Soldier before he could take another breath.  
\--------------------


	6. Chapter 6

The Winter Soldier’s howl of rage rang in Steve’s ears, muting the sound of shattering glass and groaning metal as they collapsed on top of an expensive looking 1953 Ghia. He would have mourned the car had he not more important things to deal with.  
Despite not having taken the full force of the drop, the blonde gasped silently in agony, buckled on top of the now unconscious Bucky. His legs, which had been wound around the man, were pinned down, tucked into the folds of metal. Had this not been the very obvious scene of a brutal fight, the position might have seemed intimate. The Captain groaned at the thought and forced his head up, arms anchoring themselves on either side of the assassin.  
Beneath him, Bucky’s head had fallen to the side, hair curtaining his eyes. Steve gently swept the strands away, his current deafness making the rest of the city seem nonexistent. He stared at his face for a moment, marvelling at how such a gentle looking person could form so many hateful expressions.  
Closing his eyes in concentration, the Captain breathed deeply and eased himself off of the comatose assassin, wincing at the sharp fissures of pain that screamed out in protest of the action. He estimated several fractures and burst capillaries. Not wanting to even think about how his jaw was probably broken, Steve did his best to ignore it all, and finally picked himself up completely.  
Around the crushed car, people were starting to gather, and he was extremely thankful that nobody had been in the vehicle at the time of their fall. He swept a dangerous glare across the small crowd, causing them all to take an involuntary step backwards. Sometimes, he was thankful for the intimidating aura killing had given him.  
Steve slid off the ruined automobile, catching himself on the balls of his feet before he could crumple pathetically. He straightened and cupped his hands under the Winter Soldier’s arms, pulling, only to stagger at the new burden on his injured body. Holding his breath, Steve took all of the Soldier’s weight on his back, astonished that the man was even heavier than he looked. His legs shook under him and he shot a single warning look to those around him, who took the hint immediately and parted like the red sea.  
Captain America trudged through them until he made it to an unoccupied black SUV. He put his fist through one of the windows and opened the back door, grunting as he heaved Bucky off of his shoulders and into the car. Once in, he closed it and went to take his place in the driver’s seat. Steve wiped his forehead, sweat beginning to sting his eyes. His hand came away red and he cleaned it on the seat beside him, getting to work on hotwiring their getaway.  
It roared to life within moments and Steve slammed his foot on the gas, swerving into the now-still streets with more exhaustion than anything else. He ignored the speed limit heavily, his reflexes making avoiding a crash easy. Once far enough away from the scene of the crime, the blonde slowed and got to thinking.  
Where the fuck was he going?  
If Steve took him back to Black Hawk, they would demand that he’d be killed. Under no circumstances was he going to let that happen. All these years, Steve had been looking for an opportunity to get away, and now this man gave him the perfect excuse. Not only had he been able to break him out of the “Captain America” reverie, but he held an importance that Steve wasn’t yet able to identify. All he knew was that the Winter Soldier needed to live. For both his, and Steve’s sake. If he could save Bucky, that meant he could save himself, too.  
With a second of hesitation, the super soldier clicked the Black Hawk pin that sat on his collar, hoping he could trust this one person to see it his way.  
\-------------------------  
James Barnes opened his eyes.  
When the ringing in his head failed to cease, he closed them again.  
“Damn it,” he growled, and immediately a wave of agony overwhelmed him, the focus for curses lost as scream tore itself from his throat. It was as though every bone in his body was shattered, and he could barely keep the tears from his eyes as he cried out again, this time in desperation.  
His fingers curled tightly around the chains he knew were attached to the ceiling, stretching his arms far overhead. His feet barely skimmed the floor, keeping the weight off of what felt like two broken ankles. He blinked, adjusting to the darkness permeated by only a few splashes of light.  
He didn’t recognize the room, but he’d been in this position one too many times not to understand what was going on.  
He’d failed his mission.  
He didn’t know how he was still alive, or how White Rabbit had managed to reclaim him. But they had and, from this familiar set-up, they were clearly unhappy with him. His torso was stripped bare, blood slipping from the gashes in his scarred flesh. Any moment now, Ruslan would enter the room and give him the beating of his life. Then would come Kozlov, and he would say those words, those eleven words,  
_Longing_  
“I tried!” Barnes screamed at the empty room. “I tried, you have to believe me!” He paused for a moment to breathe, the air rattling in his lungs. “Please believe me!” He begged, jerking against the chains. “Please!”  
Silence was the only reply.  
A long moan slipped from between Barnes’ lips, the mournful sound like a whine coming from a wounded pup.  
Apprehension at what was to come clung to his skin like sweat and, like one would expect, there also lingered a bit of fear. But it wasn’t for himself. “Please be okay, Blue,” he suddenly heard himself whisper, voice echoing softly throughout the room. The words, they weren’t his, but he could feel them like they were his own, and they felt like his own, though he couldn’t understand, couldn’t grasp why they’d been the ones to leave his lips. And yet he’d said them.  
A flash of red in the doorway caught his eye, and he immediately straightened up. “Rus?” He called out quietly.  
\--------------------------  
“Not exactly.” Stepping out of the shadows, Steve offered Bucky a sympathetic smile, the slight motion making his face hurt. Luckily, his jaw wasn’t actually broken, but it definitely looked it. A gradient of purple and black decorated the pronounced bone, and the blonde rubbed it absently.  
“Sorry about the rough treatment. But you know, you were trying to kill me.” He raised a pointed eyebrow, disregarding how the chained man’s concern warmed his chest. Better to spare the poor fellow some embarrassment. He was just satisfied this strange attraction wasn’t one-sided.  
“I called a friend here to help us out. Her name is Natasha, and she’s been kind enough to bring us supplies and information. Be nice.” The redhead made herself visible, sliding out from behind Steve with a slightly nervous but passive curve of the lip.  
“Bucky.” She greeted him, nodding.  
Steve couldn’t begin to express the relief he felt at her presence. He hadn’t been sure if she’d help him out at all, and it had been a huge risk for him to turn on his tracker. Yet after all of these years, he felt he could actually trust her. Not only had she been smart enough not to make her little escapade known, but she had thought to bring medical supplies.  
Which, after taking one look at the two, she had decided were top priority. As it turned out, Steve had fractures running all up and down his legs, and his ribs were heavily bruised. Nat said he was very lucky that a certain silver arm hadn’t crushed them altogether.  
Her treatment was responsible for his current shirtless appearance, and the heavily coated medicine wraps that covered his legs and torso. They were already beginning to numb him, so all of his movements were based on forced instinct.  
With the possibility of Bucky waking up at any point, Steve hadn’t wanted to risk her treating him, fearful of how he’d react upon consciousness. So they’d given him enough morphine to knock out a horse. Which, apparently, was not enough. Their metabolisms did burn ridiculously fast, after all. Now that the Soldier was awake, and seemingly sane, he felt safe enough to step forward with two syringes in hand. Several steps behind him, Natasha followed.  
“This is a special healing agent developed by Stark Industries. It’s too strong for everyday citizens, so it was given to us for beta testing. Conveniently enough, it works. Seeing as how you’re built pretty much the same as me, I figured it might help. If you let me inject you, your already accelerated healing will be tripled.” Steve held his hands up, approaching slowly. He met Bucky’s eyes, asking for permission.  
“Can I help you out, Buck?”  
\----------------  
“Captain Rogers,” Barnes said as Steve entered the room. “You’re alive.” Pleased though he was that he wasn’t in White Rabbit’s possession, he couldn’t keep the irritation he felt out of his voice. “I gotta tell you, that doesn’t happen that often.” He allowed his eyes to flick about Steve’s form taking in the various wounds that were in the process of healing. “I did a damn good job though, huh?” A small chuckle slipped out, and he immediately bit his lip. “Sorry about that. I guess.”  
Turning his attention towards The Captain’s companion, Barnes frowned slightly, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “Natasha,” he said, narrowing his eyes in curiosity. “You’re one of them too, aren’t you? One of Black Hawk’s agents?” He threw Steve a glance. “Don’t worry; Blue here didn’t let anything slip. But I do know an assassin when I see one, no matter how pretty they are.” Grimacing, he released his hold on the chains, hands open as though in surrender. “No, wait, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” He sighed. “I haven’t really spent time with women in eight years. Or at least ones who are good to talk to.” He shook his head. “Wow. Sorry. I thought I’d be better at this.”  
Barnes took the chains back in his hands, practically kicking himself when suddenly he realized The Captain was talking to him. “Sure, yeah, Blue, whatever you gotta do,” he said, only half-listening. But when he finally looked back at Steve, he practically jumped out of his skin.  
The blue-eyed bastard was intending to stick him with a few rather long and uncomfortable-looking needles. Barnes knew he wouldn’t experience any pain as they pierced his skin; the only thing he’d feel would be a bit of pressure at the point of entry.  
But this, in addition to everything else, suddenly felt very overwhelming. He was in a building at least the size of a football field, and yet he felt like he was being cornered. A distressing sense of claustrophobia pressed against his entire body, and he craned his neck, trying, at the very least, to shake loose the mask still locked tightly over his mouth and nose.  
Settling his gaze back on the approaching Steve, he grit his teeth. “You can go ahead and prick me, Blue. Just do me a favor and get this damn mask off first.”  
\----------------------  
Steve nodded and handed the serum injections to Nat. She threw him a doubtful look, which he returned with a resolved smile. He padded towards Bucky until he was only a few inches away. The proximity without worry for his neck was dizzying. The bruised and beaten brunette was almost intoxicating. Steve had to stop for a moment to get his bearings.  
Once sure he wouldn’t suddenly latch onto the Russian, he tucked his fingers under the folds of leather, trying to get a better view of the number pad. He felt the warmth of Bucky’s cheek beneath the material, and growled under his breath. It looked like it should have been easy to remove. Yet it was anything but. Most likely another way to torture the poor Soldier.  
There wasn’t enough space to try and cut the damn thing off, and knowing White Rabbit, there was probably a toxin ready to be unleashed if he tried. Figuring out the code was the only way.  
Steve’s eyes flicked towards Bucky’s before returning to the mask, his next statement seeming ridiculous in the circumstance.  
“Bet they’re birthday people.” He poked in the numbers “0”, “3”, “2”, and “0” again. When a negative beep sounded, Steve grit his teeth, the pain in his jaw sharpening his focus.  
“Guess not…” So they had not been cruel enough to put something as simple as Bucky’s birthday. He was both irritated and thankful for that.  
He tried several more combinations, ranging from the number correlation of letters, which varied from words like “winter” to “Kozlov”. Each failed attempt echoed with a high pitched sound of rejection, and Steve felt his patience growing thin. He wanted this mask off just as much as the Soldier. If only to see the rest of his face.  
Just as the blonde approached his breaking point, a single, clear thought appeared in his mind. It was soft like a bell, and with a suddenly awed expression, Steve inputted the last code.  
“0”  
“7”  
“0”  
“4”  
The lock fell open with a resounding snap, and Steve pulled the leather muzzle away from Bucky’s mouth, the heavy piece sliding gently out from behind his head. The Captain let it drop to the floor, and there he stood for a few moments, just staring at him.  
To call the man beautiful would have been a gross understatement. He epitomized everything Steve valued, and with a shaken step back, he murmured something unintelligible.  
“Steve?” Natasha was suddenly at his side, warm hands supporting him on his back and abdomen.  
“My birthday. They used my birthday... “ He looked down at her, brows furrowed. “That’s gotta be some fucked up coincidence, right Nat?”  
Black Widow inspected his face, suddenly more tired than she’d been in years.  
“No, Steve. I’m afraid not.” She spoke quietly, lowering her eyes. It looked like this was going to happen. At least she was the one to tell him.  
“The truth is, you two weren’t just sent on ordinary missions. White Rabbit and Black Hawk noticed something about the both of you, and they decided to test out a theory.” Natasha let her hands fall to her side, and she pulled out a small slip of paper from her thigh holster.  
“We’re not sure who figured it out first, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. The result was the same on both ends. Both of you have too many similarities for it to be pure coincidence. Taken as young men, you were both turned into killing machines, with the same genetic enhancements, and the same background. Neither of you have any memory of what happened before being ‘The Winter Soldier’ or ‘Captain America”. You never had any opportunity to meet, and though you were millions of miles away, somehow, you both always had a connection to the other. One of you just had a nicer guard.” She smiled sadly, holding the paper out for Steve to take.  
“You talk in your sleep you know.”  
Thoroughly perplexed, he softly plucked it from her grasp. On it was a date, followed by what seemed like a report, written in beautiful cursive. Natasha’s work.  
His eyes scanned the paper, noting that the date was only two weeks ago. He read on, heart sinking to his feet.  
May 15th, 2016.  
The Captain spoke about a “Bucky” again. The dreams seem to be more like nightmares each time he has them. He spoke about Colonel Koslov and Sergent Aleksandrov. Since he started saying “Bucky” his information has gotten more accurate. Captain Rogers has never heard of White Rabbit. Yet he knows the name of its operator, and the only other super soldier in existence.  
James Buchanan Barnes.  
Reports will continue until further notice.  
“Soulmates.”  
Steve’s head snapped up, the word striking him in the chest like a hot iron.  
Black Widow’s voice shook slightly, and she was obviously in as much pain telling this as Steve was hearing it.  
“That’s what they call it. As far as anyone knows, it’s one of the rarest occurrences that exists. There have only been stories about them, as mythical as the Tesseract or Noah’s Ark. So, nobody believed they existed.  
“Until you two.”  
She folded her arms over her chest tightly, as if she could protect herself from the guilt of her words.  
“Around the same time you started talking about Bucky, Bucky started talking about you. White Rabbit and Black Hawk decided that was dangerous. You two were sharing information in your sleep, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.”  
A beat.  
“So we sent you after each other. I knew as soon as you saw his face in that picture, Steve. You guys are the real deal. And that means there’s only one way for you two to die… The stories say that the only way for a soulmate to die is for the other to kill them. They stop aging once they meet, and they’re always aware of each other, even seeing out of each other's’ eyes, no matter the distance between them. So to have the world’s top assassins synced up… It was chaos, no matter how we looked at it.”  
Natasha finally met Steve’s eyes, and the expression on his face made her visibly flinch.  
“I’m sorry, Steve. I’m sorry.”  
The blonde held the now crumped note in his fist, unaware of when he’d closed it. His bewildered gaze turned towards Bucky, and without thinking about it, he pulled the chains attached to his wrists directly out of the ceiling. He caught the Russian in one arm and lowered him to the floor, wary of his injuries. With a blank face, he gently took the serums from Nat and inserted one into his arm, allowing the formula to enter Bucky’s veins.  
His soulmate.  
His soulmate.  
Soulmate.  
The Winter Soldier.  
Bucky.  
Bucky was his soulmate.  
It didn’t make sense to Steve’s currently overheated mind, and where he sat on the floor next to his supposed lover, he tried to process what he’d just been told.  
Surely, it explained a lot. Hell, it explained almost everything. He’d had nightmares for almost his entire life, and now, with a sullen realization, he understood that those had been Bucky’s memories. The familiarity of the Soldier. The draw he held. The absolute refusal to kill him… He didn’t even try to refuse the idea. He knew she was right.  
But the scale of it all… He couldn’t wrap his head around it.  
Steve placed the extra serum beside Bucky and then forced himself to his feet, towering over Natasha.  
He felt exhausted. His injuries still throbbed, and with the new information swirling in his head, he didn’t know how to look at his longtime friend.  
“Thank you, Nat. For everything. But I think you should go. There’s some stuff I need to work out.” His arms hung limply at his sides, and Natasha stared up at him, eyes shining with moisture. She wiped at them viciously and reached up, winding her arms around his neck.  
At the sudden contact, Steve didn’t know how to react. He simply stood there for a moment before warmth re-entered his body and he hugged her back, nearly taking her off her feet.  
“I’m always on your side, Captain America. Don’t you forget that.” She whispered in his ear, gripping him tighter to herself.  
He responded with a squeeze before setting her down. Steve smiled at her and nodded.  
“Same goes to you, Black Widow.” The redhead’s lips crooked up at the corner of her mouth and she stepped back, before turning completely and sprinting out of the warehouse, leaving Bucky and Steve alone once more.  
He looked back to the brunette, handsome face drawn.  
“So… This is awkward.”  
\--------------------


	7. Chapter 7

Barnes hissed softly as the serum entered his veins, but the burning sensation quickly melted into a warmth that settled heavily on his arms and continued to spread over his back.   
He sighed, releasing his breath as slow as he could, trying to hold onto the absolute contentment he felt in that moment. Soon would come the royal aches that always followed injuries like these, and he just wanted to keep the most painless few seconds of his known life in his grasp for as long as (in)humanly possible.   
He'd barely begun to enjoy himself, however, when his mind finally locked on the word Natasha had said moments earlier.   
_Soulmates._   
Barnes blew air out of his nose, barely able to keep himself from rolling his eyes.   
_Oh, yeah. Soulmates. For sure. Cause that shit actually exists._   
He watched as Steve wrapped his arms around the smaller assassin, watched as they embraced, watched as the gave each other hesitant smiles as they pulled apart.   
And he felt jealous.   
Or perhaps “jealous” was the wrong word. He wasn't annoyed that Natasha had gotten to hug his “soulmate”; he just felt sorry sort of… empty. Not once in his known life had he been touched by someone who hadn't done so in order to harm him. Steve’s hot breath and nimble fingers against the skin along Barnes’ mask would have been the first.   
“So… This is awkward.”  
Glancing up at the blonde beefcake, Barnes gave a short laugh. “Don't miss much, do you, Steve?”  
For the first time, The Captain’s real name rolled off of his tongue, and it sounded good. It sounded _right_. It was better than “Blue”, at least, though he wasn't about to go throwing _that_ nickname away.   
“You really believe that?” He said, forcing himself to sit all the way up. “That whole “soulmate” bullshit your girlfriend was talking about?” He pulled a single hair tie from around his right wrist. “Buddy, that's the sort of fairy tale you tell little kids.” Wrapping the band around his hair, he tucked the brown strands into a small bun before letting his arms fall back to his sides. “It's like the prince rescuing the princess from the tower. He killed the dragon and they lived happily ever after, right?” He shook his head. “Sorry to break it to you, baby, but you're no prince. God fuckin’ knows you look like one, but you're still not it.” Barnes suddenly grimaced at his lack of forethought when choosing the metaphor. “Guess, uh, guess that would make me the princess, right? But I'm not her either. Don't need rescuing, and I can fight my own damn dragon, thank you very much.” He offered up a faint smile. “And even if you were the prince, even if I was, uh, well, the princess, the ending wouldn't be the same.”  
He looked into Steve’s eyes, the blue like an ocean’s tide, trying to draw him in. But he knew that once it caught him, it would never let him go. And Barnes wasn't so sure he'd fight it.   
So instead he dropped his gaze, eyes flicking towards the full syringe that lay by his side. The first dose had helped his upper half, but the rest of him was in definite need of some as well.   
Barnes sighed.   
“We don't have happily ever afters, Steve. People like us… we're the dragons.”


End file.
